


The Inevitable Buildup to a Let Down

by gerardsjuarez



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, Projekt Revolution, Sad Ending, Touring, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:35:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24710941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardsjuarez/pseuds/gerardsjuarez
Summary: “It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He interrupted him.Gerard looked up at him, “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 5
Kudos: 54





	The Inevitable Buildup to a Let Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is pretty sad so I'm warning you here but my friend definitelynotgay told me it was good enough to post so here it is!

"I need to break up with her.” 

Frank stopped playing his acoustic and set it aside. Gerard said that he might come over but Frank hadn’t expected him to fully barge into his home and find him in the basement. He thought everyone was taking a break from the band before they were on the road for the new record. He watched as Gerard sat on the ground in front of him, waving an unlit cigarette in one hand.

“Then break up with her.” Frank shrugged.

Gerard looked mildly taken aback, “What? No speech about working shit out?”

“Gee,” Frank sighed and took the cigarette from his hand, “no offense or anything but none of us like her that much.”

He blinked, “Really?”

He shrugged again, “Anyway, how do you plan on breaking up with her?”

Gerard stared at his hands now that he didn’t have anything to fidget with, “In person.”

Frank knew he would need some pushing to get out why he was actually at his house. He stood up and pushed his chair back, sitting on the floor in front of Gerard with a serious look on his face, “What are you going to say?”

Gerard was quiet for a bit but eventually, he sighed, “Frankie, can you do me a favor?”

He sat up, “Of course.”

He shifted, “Can you pretend to be her so I can like get it out once so I don’t fuck it up when I actually do it?”

Frank forced down a smile. That was very Gerard of him, “Yeah, alright. Pretend I have boobs, let’s go.”

With a roll of his eyes and a half-hearted nudge to Frank’s knee, he composed himself. From the way his face went from pissy to stone cold, he knew that whatever Gerard was going to say was pretty serious. He could picture it in his mind, the way he thought Gerard worked. Maybe he was imagining his girlfriend in place of Frank. He closed his eyes, sighed, looked Frank dead on, and held his hands.

“We’ve been together for a very long time. And I think very fondly of the times we’ve had together and apart in those years. You were there with me at a very specific time in my life but I can’t say I’m the same person as when I met you. I’m gonna sound really cliche like it’s a whole ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ but I think partly, it is. I still love you and care for you but not in the same way I used to. I value you so much as a person but I think I simply… fell out of love?” His gaze got more uncertain toward the end.

Frank wasn’t an ass and spoke at his usual octave, “What do you mean ‘fell out of love’?”

Gerard looked surprised but quickly spoke, “I just can’t see us go past this stage in our relationship. I don’t date just to date. I want to get married someday. And I don’t see that happening for us.”

“You don’t want to marry me? What about all the things you said?” Frank recalled some sweet nothings he had heard Gerard say to her in the past, really playing up this thing for practice sake.

“Sometimes I say things. Don’t you say things when you get passionate? Like ‘oh this is the best pizza I’ve ever had’. I know that’s a terrible comparison but what I’m trying to say is, is that things have changed for me. That pizza isn’t always going to be the best you’ve ever had.”

“Comparing me to a piece of food, huh? You know, you could just say that you don’t love me and cut the sob story.” Frank took his hands out of Gerard’s and put on a passive-aggressive show.

Gerard’s hands clenched into fists, “Goddammit… I thought this could be easy but you’re always like this! I tried to be nice and put the blame on me but it’s us! We’re both at fault here! I’m a sober mess, you’re obsessive, I’m confused and busy all the time, and you’re so demanding and hypocritical - we’re always at each other’s necks. That’s why I want to end this. All we ever do is fight anymore and it’s taking the life out of me. It’s over. I’m done, you’re done. I’ve already packed up your things.”

Frank sat back stunned, a slight smirk on his face. When Gerard’s angry expression met his own, it dissolved into shock.

“What? No kiss goodbye?” Frank teased and Gerard smacked him roughly on the shoulder.

“You motherfucker! You got me to say my fucking feelings!” He smacked at Frank again and Frank just laughed and grabbed his wrists.

“That’s what you’re supposed to do, ass!” He leaned in until Gerard smiled, “Don’t pull the ‘it’s all my fault’ card. Tell her the truth. She’d rather hear that than this ‘woe as me’ shit. Cause if you do that, she might feel the need to stay and fix you.”

His face turned sour, “Fix me.”

“I’ve seen her try it, Gee.” Frank let go, “You want a ginger ale?”

Gerard nodded, “Yeah. You still keep them around for me?”

Frank shrugged, “Yeah, well. You know.”

The truth was, he kept them in hopes that Gerard would come over. He always stayed longer when he was offered a drink and Frank had been mostly alone lately. Gerard reached down to help Frank up and Frank took his hand. He went to go pull away but Gerard held on, looking up at Frank through his lashes.

“I, uh. Thanks, man. I’m glad I can always come to you for this type of shit.” 

Frank smiled, “No problem, man.”

Gerard gave him a sheepish smile and squeezed his hand before letting go, leading the way back upstairs like he owned the place. Frank watched him go halfway up the stairs before he followed, his heart fluttering in his chest.

“Frankie? There’s only one left - can I have it?” Gerard called when Frank was at the top of the basement steps.

He didn’t know if it was the deep conversation they just had, the genuine thanks, or the intimacy of Gerard digging through the fridge that made him come to a shocking realization.

Gerard turned around, can up to his lips, “I think I’m just gonna have it. Sorry, not sorry.”

Fuck.

…

The first week of the tour felt like two minutes and two years at the same time. There were moments where Frank was convinced that time itself had stopped and there were moments where he felt like a movie on fast forward. He would soak in a moment like the sun and be there for days or he would grasp at the edge of a moment as it passed through his fingers. There weren’t any in-betweens. Or at least there hadn’t been any in-betweens before. 

They were parked in a lot for the night. Everyone was either out or winding down for the night and Frank had chosen to stay in. Normally, he’d go out with Mikey and have a drink or a laugh but there was something about the day that made him want to stay behind. The show had been awesome. Every show was awesome in its own way but the show had been  _ awesome _ . Touring with all of his friends was incredible. After the show, Frank and Adam broke into Linkin Park’s bus and stole all their peanut butter in retaliation to Chester ‘borrowing’ Adam’s bic and ‘losing it’. Needless to say, Adam received a strongly worded text regarding some ‘nut busters’ and if they had seen their precious peanut butter anywhere. One of those slow moments had happened while he leaned on Adam, barely able to text back as they laughed so hard they couldn’t breathe.

Frank had managed to get on top of the tour bus. It wasn’t much leverage above the ground but it was still high up. High enough to watch the sunset. It was bright red and orange, fading into yellow and diluting to blue. Frank didn’t really watch sunsets unless he was on tour. He had these moments where he felt too big. He was in a band that was exploding - his paycheck said so - and it was refreshing to look at the sunset and think-

“Makes you feel small, doesn’t it?” Gerard said from behind him.

Frank jumped and whipped around to see Gerard standing about 5 feet away with a smile on his face. Frank returned it without thought and gently patted the space next to him. Gerard sat with a metallic clunk and mocked Frank’s hunched over posture, gazing off at the sunset. 

It had been a while since Frank let himself look at Gerard for very long. After that night he helped Gerard with his girl trouble, he’d been sorta avoiding him. He was still  _ there _ but maybe not as affectionate or vocal or… or  _ there _ . Fuck. He shouldn’t let his feelings ruin a pretty good relationship. He was just confused and lonely or whatever. And Gerard was, well,  _ him _ . Frank sighed at his profile, his pointy nose, and soft yet prominent jawline. He was feminine in a very masculine way and when Gerard tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear, Frank felt his heart squeeze in his chest.

“Small,” Frank said, looking away. It was one thing to look at him, it was another to be caught doing it, “Sometimes I like feeling small.”

“Yeah?” Gerard encouraged.

“Yeah,” he shrugged, “like sometimes I get ahead of myself, I get so caught up in the band and touring - it’s good to just look at something as simple as the sunset and remember that the fans driving home are seeing the same one as me. Like… it makes me feel like a person again.”

“I get like that, too.” He sympathized, putting his hands on the metal behind him and leaning back, “I see myself in magazines all edited to shit and think ‘what is this? Where’s the genuineness?’ I feel like a prop, y’know?”

“I know.” Frank sighed, “We were just a bunch of kids and then they put us on a pedestal and proclaimed us gods. They expect shit out of us all the time and… I’m not always performing. I try my best most days but a lot of the time I just want to look at the sunset.”

They were quiet for a bit, looking at the changing colors. Gerard shifted closer.

“Do you ever miss basement shows?” He asked, looking at Frank.

Frank giggled at the casualty of the question, “Fuck, yes. I miss the intimacy.”

“I miss sleeping on the floors of fans' houses,” Gerard said after a pause.

He definitely laughed at that one, “God, remember this one girl who just let us use her car for a part of the tour? Fuck, what was her name? Terry? Trish?”

Gerard’s face pinched up while he thought and Frank expected his face looked the same. The rumors of My Chem sharing a single mind must’ve been true because at the same time, Frank and Gerard looked at each other with big grins and said:

“Tabitha!”

“Yes!” Gerard beamed, “Oh, man. She had more metal in her face than skin. She was so dope. I wonder how she’s doing.”

“I wonder if she still has that car.” Frank pondered, “Didn’t Matt throw up in it?”

“Didn’t Mikey get lucky in it?” Gerard countered and Frank rolled his eyes.

They leaned in close to each other like it was a secret. They didn’t really get moments like this together. Frank smiled a bit wider, knowing that time was stopping for them. He was so caught up in himself that he just straight up forgot how good it was to just  _ be _ with Gerard.

“When all of this is over, we should play a show for her and her friends. I’m sure with our resources that we could find her. How many metal girls named Tabitha in Belleville can there be?” Frank turned his face toward Gerard.

Gerard wasn’t looking at Frank’s eyes, “I don’t know. Could be a lot.” 

That was enough to make Frank’s face burn up. He looked out over the parking lot, the stillness of it. The sunset was now purple in hue, getting less visible. The motion lights were off, thank God, or Frank wouldn’t be able to see a lot of it. He looked up a bit and could see the faint glimmer of stars. He wondered what the sky would look like without the light pollution of the city. Probably beautiful, he thought.

When he looked back at Gerard, he was looking up at the faint stars, too, a childish glimmer in his eye. Everything was too much, too intimate, too  _ easy _ . This was Gerard for crying out loud - the raised Catholic, most likely internally homophobic, whimsical genius that fronted his  _ goddamn band _ . It would never be that easy, Frank thought. Never that easy.

“Beautiful,” he muttered to himself. Gerard looked back over at him with a smile. It curled up in a question but Frank didn’t have an excuse. He wanted to say he was talking about the sky but he wasn’t. He really wasn’t, “Gerard, I think I should tell-”

Somewhere in the distance, Frank heard a voice say, “Hey!” Followed immediately by a crash. The movement caused the motion lights to buzz back on and blind the two on the roof of the bus. It turned out to be Ray and James coming back from the arcade/bar they went to, play fighting over whatever. Frank looked back to Gerard and wondered if he should continue the confession.

As soon as he was going to, Gerard sat up, “Well, so much for stargazing. I’m going back down.”

“Alright,” Frank replied and watched him go.

Maybe it was best he didn’t confess right then. Things happened for a reason, he knew that. Maybe it wasn’t the right time to. He could see that being the reason. Or maybe he wasn’t supposed to confess at all. But that didn’t exactly seem right either. When he looked back - it just - it couldn’t be  _ nothing _ . It just couldn’t! It didn’t make sense. Frank’s feelings didn’t make sense.

He was out there till the motion lights went out again, plunging Frank into darkness. He couldn’t see the moon but he could see the stars. He leaned back and screwed his eyes shut, talking to God or talking to the sky, he didn’t know.

“I wish one of you would fall on me.” He decided to talk to the stars, “I think it would be better that way.”

… 

The first hotel night felt like a godsend. Frank was rooming with Gerard - a downside more than a plus - and the bathroom was massive. The bathroom had a jacuzzi  _ and _ a shower. He was planning on using the jacuzzi later so he slipped easily into the shower after the show, the heat soaking into his aching bones.

The water was almost too hot but there was something therapeutic about almost being burnt alive. He tipped his head forward and let the water slide over his face, sighing. He slicked his hair back and reached for the bottle of shampoo. He’d stolen it from Gerard, it was some weird brand that he swore by. Apparently it made his hair shiny and bouncy - Frank didn’t know. Gerard got into these rants sometimes and Frank had learned to tune him out after a bit. As long as he kept nodding, Gerard would get it out. 

When he rinsed the soap out of his hair, he scratched his nails along his torso. He wasn’t entirely sure why his body got itchy when he was in the shower. Maybe it was the dead skin mixed with the water, he didn’t know. All he knew is that it itched. Not unbearably or anything, just enough to scratch. He watched the red lines form on his skin, heightened by the warmth of the water.

He zoned out for a bit, in thought. Using Gerard’s shampoo meant that he would smell like Gerard. He hadn’t thought of that before. Most of the time, Gerard smelled like sweat and leather but a day or so after he showered he’d smell like a fruity hair salon. And now Frank was going to smell like it. Frank was marked. 

“Jesus,” he mumbled to himself, scoffing.

Sometimes he would get in this thought process. He was getting pretty good at avoiding Gerard, avoiding his feelings, avoiding a confession. But lately, it had been getting interesting in Frank’s mind. He couldn’t stop thinking about Gerard and it was fucking unsettling. 

The stage antics really weren’t helping. They’d been getting a lot more… homoerotic, he supposed. Mostly due to the crowd, really. Taking Back Sunday and My Chem typically had the same audience but Linkin Park? Mindless Self Indulgence? Extremely different audiences. A lot of their crowd was a bit more aggressive, a bit more judgemental. He’d talked about it with Chester recently, even. About the differences in their crowds. 

“Gerard and I have been talking about maybe being a bit more flamboyant on stage,” Frank had suggested, standing in line at Panda Express.

“Yeah?” He said, half listening, half looking at the menu.

“We’d think it would be funny for guys to look up and see that they’re punching each other to us… I don’t know.” He shrugged, “All up on each other.”

He’d laughed at that, “God, that’s pretty bold. I’m all for it.”

Things got weird after that seal of approval. Gerard was always Gerard, swaying his hips, saying filthy things into the mic - but this time Frank was involved. Frank licked him once. Gerard retaliated. Gerard pressed up against him, head to toe. Frank bit his neck. Gerard grabbed him by the throat and looked him in the eyes as he sang Prison. Frank got on his knees and pressed his face against Gerard’s belt. 

You know. Shit like that.

Some of the stuff, Frank hardly remembered. The stuff he did? It was all stuff that Gerard knew Frank liked. The guys all had talked about stuff they liked. Frank knew that Ray was into brunettes and quit witted girls. Frank knew that Bob liked erotic fiction. Frank knew that Mikey had a thing for emo chicks.  _ Frank knew about Gerard’s thing for watching people throw up _ . They just - they all knew shit. 

So when Gerard pulled Frank’s hair, called him names, and grabbed his throat, he knew he was playing with him. What was he going to do next? Use his belt to tie him up? Dabble in exhibitionism? Well, okay, what they were doing could be considered softcore but that was beside the point. Gerard knew very well about Frank’s thing for hair pulling, and name-calling, and being choked. He could easily just grind up against him and keep on singing but he was targeting him. It made Frank feel exposed.

When he looked down at his body again, he saw that he’d scratched a bright red G onto skin in his absentmindedness. 

“Fuck.” He lamented and reached for the body wash.

Back in the bedroom, Gerard was laying on his bed reading something out of a magazine. This time it was in English, thank God. Since Gerard discovered he could afford Rosetta Stone, he’d been all up in Russian or something like that. He went over to his bag and threw on a hoodie, his rustling bringing Gerard out of his daze.

“Hey,” he said, sitting up, “come look at this bullshit.”

Frank walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, “What?”

Gerard pointed to the words on the page, “It’s about us. Fucking talking about our looks instead of the fucking music. I’m tired of this shit.”

He grabbed the magazine and glared at the page, “What the fuck?”

“They’d rather have something to fuck than something that makes them think.” He huffed, “Give it.”

Frank held it away from his grasp, “With all due respect, Gee, no.”

Momentarily pissed, Gerard gave him a nasty look. Frank merely gave him a shit-eating grin and tossed it over his shoulder, hearing the paper crumple to the ground. He continued to smile at him until Gerard gave in and rolled his eyes, shoving his hand in Frank’s face and pushing him away. Frank laughed and fell onto his back, looking at Gerard.

“You’re an ass.” Gerard said affectionately, looking over Frank, “What’s that?”

He froze, “What’s what?”

He leaned forward and pushed Frank’s shorts up, “Do you have a rash? It’s been going-”

He paused, looking at the upside-down letter, pink but still visible. Gerard’s hand was still on Frank’s upper thigh, holding the fabric up.

“I get itchy in the shower.” He tried to explain.

“So do I,” He replied.

“I must’ve,” Frank took in a breath, “I must’ve done that not thinking.”

“Must’ve.” Gerard took in a breath also and then backed away like he’d been burned, “Well. I’m glad it wasn’t the rash.”

“I,” Frank stopped himself, embarrassed, “Me, too.”

“Well,” Gerard looked back at Frank’s bed, “Good night, then.”

“Night.” He realized he was still on Gerard’s bed and stood up, “Sorry. Uh, good night.”

Gerard didn’t wait till Frank was in bed to turn the lights off.

…

Adam walked next to Frank with an arm slung around his shoulders and an energy drink in one hand. It was getting close to dinner time and they were just sort of walking around and talking to other bands, shooting the shit with some roadies, nothing too exciting. Frank was preoccupied, though, thoughts swimming. He wondered if people ever looked at Adam and him and thought they were a thing. Frank wondered that about all of his friends, really, but didn’t care all that much. He just thought it was strange that people had other perceptions of him. And with the way Adam kept leaning in and giggling and talking to him, well, it seemed pretty romantic to Frank, anyway. 

Frank had snagged a sub sandwich from catering and Adam had some kind of burger and fries deal. They sat in the TBS dressing room alone, sort of talking, sort of eating. He’d gone through half of his sandwich when he couldn’t keep talking idly anymore.

“So,” Frank started and paused until Adam looked up.

“Oh, you got that look in your eyes, man.” Adam swallowed.

Frank took in a breath, “Uh, yeah.”

“Shit.” He said, “What is it?”

It wasn’t like he could just spew it out. He had to tell someone, though, and Adam was one of his closest friends. He scratched at his arm and looked at the nearby couch where some of his bandmates’ things were at. Adam didn’t have feelings for any of his bandmates. Adam didn’t get caught up in stupid everyday things and look for something more until he found a semblance of a requited feeling.

“I think… I’m catching feelings for someone.” He started off warily to see how Adam reacted.

He had a fry halfway up to his mouth but lowered it, staring at Frank, “Alright. Is this a bad or a good thing?”

“Could be either?” Frank shrugged.

Adam paused and finally put the fry in his mouth, “Is it me? Because if it is, man, we’re cool.”

Frank rolled his eyes and kicked at him from under the table, “No, it’s not, asshole.”

“Worth a shot.” He paused, “Do I have to keep guessing, or would you rather say it? Cause I’ve got some good guesses.”

“I was gonna tell you but now I’m intrigued.” Frank sat forward.

Adam held up two fingers with a stupid grin on his face, “Brian or Gerard.”

“I…” He blinked, “Brian? Like Placebo Brian?”

“What? He’s totally hot.”

“Adam, I think  _ you _ have a thing for Brian.” 

He waved it away, “Whatever. So, Gerard, then?”

Frank ran his hands over his face and sat back in his chair, “Yeah.”

Adam’s face looked pained, “Oh, dude,  _ no _ .”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” He asked.

There it was. The confirmation without the confirmation that it wasn’t going to work. Adam was pretty good at reading people. A trusted third party whose feelings wouldn’t cloud his judgment. He leaned forward and reached out toward Frank but didn’t touch him, he just made sure that he caught his eye before explaining himself.

“Dude, even if Gerard liked boys, you know it wouldn’t work out.” He looked pretty upset.

Frank sighed, “I know, man, but sometimes I just think… I think we’re wrong about him. He does these things and I - I don’t know. He uses it for some kind of political statement.”

He watched Adam sit back again and play with a piece of his hair, “He should know you well enough to not pull that shit.”

“I know! Like - fuck, he’s using things I like against me.” Frank gestured vaguely to where he thought Gerard might be.

He frowned, “How so?”

“So you know how I like getting my hair pulled?” 

“I didn’t but now I do.” Adam didn’t look the least bit surprised.

“Anyway, he’s using the things that I told him I liked. Pulling my hair, calling me names and shit. Very specific things that I know he knows.” He finished with a huff, “It’s driving me crazy.”

“Hmm,” he thought, “why don’t you do it back to him? See how he fucking likes it.”

“Nah. I’m not gonna give him the satisfaction. Plus, unless I wanna vomit on him or peg him on stage, I wouldn’t know what to do.” He reached across the table and stole one of Adam’s fries.

When he looked up, Adam looked horrified, “I never want to hear the words ‘Gerard’ or ‘pegging’ in the same context as you ever again.”

That night was intense. Gerard still did his same old ‘targeting Frank’s kinks’ thing and Frank, after thinking all day, decided his course of action. He decided to take Adam’s advice. It was kind of hard to think of what Gerard liked and to transpose it on stage but after some rather intense ‘thinking’, he came up with one other thing. Gerard had a bit of an oral fixation. Licking his hand, his fingers, simply just doing weird shit with his tongue. He’d had a conversation forever ago about this one girl Gerard was with for a bit who had an obsession with vampires and how much he’d liked it.

Gerard was screaming, coming over to Frank to do God knows what. He pressed their foreheads together and leaned the mic a little toward Frank, expecting him to sing as well. He was tempted, really, but he had a mission. He leaned over and sort of bit at Gerard’s neck. Frank was a little upset that Gerard didn’t outwardly react beyond a change in expression so he tried again, licking a stripe up his neck and biting just below his ear, letting the edge of his earlobe catch between his teeth. His next line came out a little startled and he gripped Frank by his shirt and pushed him away, walking over to where Ray was, shredding on his guitar.

After the gig, when everyone was settling down, the post-concert high fading away, Frank couldn’t help but notice that whenever he felt someone looking at him, it was always Gerard.

...

The next time Frank was alone with Gerard, it was when he barged into the tour bus with blood on his face. Now, seeing any of the other guys (maybe not so much Mikey) with a bloody nose or something wasn’t such a big deal but Gerard was an advocate for nonviolence. He wrote _T_ _ eenagers _ for fuck’s sake. So Frank’s reaction was completely justified.

“What the fuck?!” He shot up from his spot on the couch.

“Don’t freak out, I’m okay.” He put up a hand to keep Frank at a distance but he wasn’t having it.

He snagged a dirty towel off of the counter and handed it to Gerard. He wiped off the blood from where it had trickled from his forehead. Frank just sort of watched with wide eyes, hoping that Gerard would explain himself. He felt like he’d been watching forever when Gerard met his eyes.

“Someone threw a beer can at me.” He explained.

His blood boiled, especially hot in his hands, “Someone threw a fucking  _ beer _ can at you?”

Gerard shrugged but Frank could tell he was holding in his anger, “I don’t know who. Some guy. Called me a fag, said our band was a bunch of pansies, things like that.”

“Gerard,”

“I know!” He snapped and Frank was almost upset at himself for getting an ounce of glee from it, “I’m fucking pissed off, okay!? Jesus Christ, Frank.”

“It’s not the first time someone’s called you that. Or our band that.” He pointed out uselessly.

Gerard looked down at the towel in his hand, “This is the first time someone’s made me bleed over it.”

Frank’s sense of self slammed back into him and he was glad that Gerard finally let him get close. The wound wasn’t big and could easily be covered up by Gerard’s bangs but the fact that it was even there made Frank wanna scream. 

“God,” Frank brushed Gerard’s hair away from it so he could see it better, “sit on the couch, I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Something in Gerard’s face switched and he gave Frank a tiny smile, moving away to do as told. Frank rummaged around the kitchenette until he found the junk drawer with the kit in it. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them used it. Not that he didn’t trust a homophobe’s beer can for being clean or anything but the last thing he needed was for something to happen to Gerard. He sat down and frowned, looking him over.

“You don’t have to clean it.” He said.

Frank shrugged and opened the kit, taking out an alcohol pad, “You won’t clean it right.”

“Insert joke about not showering?” Gerard offered and Frank laughed.

“I wasn’t going to.” He brushed Gerard’s hair from his face and gently dabbed at the cut. Gerard kept looking at him. It was weird, “Uh. I think it’ll heal pretty quick but it might bruise.”

Finally, he looked away, “Glad I grew out the bangs, then.” 

God, even something as simple as looking at Frank while he cleaned Gerard up got him thinking. He kept looking up at Frank and then looking back down. He tried his best to ignore it but when he went to put some ointment on it, Gerard hissed and reached out, touching Frank’s knee.

“You good?” He asked and sat back.

“Yeah. I think you’re right about the bruising.” 

Frank nodded and put his things away, “Do you want a bandaid or something?”

Gerard squeezed Frank’s knee before letting go, “I think I’ll be good.”

He could tell that something was going to happen on stage that night because of what happened in the parking lot. Gerard always combatted violence - especially bigoted violence - with grand gestures of love and acceptance, usually in the form of a speech. Frank remembered the one about shitty ass rock dudes with a particular sense of pride. As he geared up to go on stage, he wondered what he would say that time. Gerard had sort of heckled homophobic crowd members or people he’d toured with before but they’d never inflicted violence on him prior to those speeches. Usually, Gerard would overhear something shitty and then be passive-aggressive about it on stage. But whatever Gerard was planning was big from the way he kept skipping and jumping and generally vibrating with this weird, excited energy.

“How are we doing? Are we still doing good?” Gerard grinned manically, “Now, I got something to say to you.”

The crowd screamed in response and Frank watched him in between tuning his guitar. He stood at the front of the stage in a different get-up than usual - a black blazer and mostly hole-less jeans.

“I know some of you hard ass motherfuckers think you’re so tough for hating someone based on who they love. Well, jokes on you because I fucking hate you!” Gerard raised a middle finger at the crowd and Frank knew that a lot of the crowd’s noise was booing, “I got a fucking bottle thrown at me in a parking lot today because someone thought what me and my band stand for was just a little too gay. I have a surprise for you - this song goes out to every homophobe and bigot in this place. This is You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison.”

Frank sort of laughed to himself and prepared himself for whatever antics he was trying to do. This song was the background music to just about every unholy thing they’ve ever done on stage. Gerard hadn’t really addressed the whole team homophobia thing so blatantly before. Dedicating a song that’s basically about the time he and Bert made out for a really long time to them was especially ballsy.

Frank just played, though, like he always did, and patiently waited. Gerard was really playing up his usual flamboyant character and Frank sent a look to Mikey who was very much not paying attention. Whatever, he could manage. He made his way toward center stage, away from where Gerard was singing. He could feel Gerard approach from behind him, hand on his head but he didn’t look up from his guitar, realizing at the last second that it had been Gerard’s head instead of his hand. He watched Gerard walk away, turning around, and making his way back to Frank.

And in a split second, Gerard’s hand was gripping Frank’s hair and he hauled him in for a kiss. 

It was slimy and open-mouthed and hot. So very, very hot. It felt like he was playing to a crowd of a million people rather than however fucking many were in front of him. Or as if he were playing to none at all and it was just him and Gerard on the fucking stage. Either way, his whole body seemed to stop working, focusing only on Gerard’s mostly-tongue kiss. He wrapped his arms around him and tilted his head, trying to see how long he would last. Apparently not very long because the kiss ended as quickly as it had come and Frank felt like he’d been set on fire.

The rest of the show was a whirlwind of songs and chord and screaming and the loud sound of blood rushing in Frank’s ears. He was only aware that the concert had ended when Ray slung an arm around his shoulders and told him that he did ‘pretty fucking spectacular’ that night. Frank couldn’t contain his excitement in the slightest so he gave Ray an obnoxious kiss on the cheek and told him to fucking suck it because Ray’s the one who was spectacular  _ every _ night. Ray was biased, though, so he just pushed Frank right into Gerard. He probably hadn’t meant to push him into anyone but Frank was sorta thankful.

“Hey.” Gerard beamed.

Frank grinned right back at him, “Hey,” he said and kissed him.

Any chatter that might’ve been going on around them completely stopped. Frank had been smiling from ear to ear when he leaned in and kissed Gerard for the second time that night but the one on stage and the one they were sharing now were two different kisses with two different versions of Gerard. 

He gently pushed at Frank’s chest and he broke the kiss, looking up at Gerard. The air was thick around them and not in a good way. Gerard was staring at him with wide eyes and Frank felt exposed, his skin crawling with the sensation of others looking at them. He took a step back and glanced at his surroundings. His bandmates were staring back at him with varied expressions - some sad, some confused, some plain disgusted. Frank felt like he’d been dunked inside a pool of ice water.

“Frank,” Gerard said eventually, red in the face, “come - come on, we should go somewhere private.”

Gerard sent a nod to Ray and Ray sort of nodded back, watching them leave. Gerard led Frank through the corridors with a hand on his arm until they made it back into the dressing room. As soon as the door shut behind them, Frank began freaking out.

“Shit, shit, shit, look, Gerard, I - I fucked up, okay? God, I fucked up.”

“Frank!” He smiled at him, moving his hands in the ‘settle down’ motion, “Dude. It’s okay. I’m not mad. Don’t do that to yourself, alright? Don’t beat yourself up.”

“I’m not.” Frank lied.

Gerard’s smile turned sad at the edges, “I know you.”

Frank didn’t know what to say and just stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.

Eventually, he sighed, “Frank, look. I - what we did on stage tonight was just - just-”

“An act?” Frank supplied.

“No, I never act on stage.” Gerard said firmly, “But it wasn’t - I didn’t mean it romantically, you know that.”

“I didn’t. Until now, at least.” Frank admitted, “I actually… I thought maybe there was something else.”

He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair, “That’s my fault. I… fuck, I’m so sorry but I knew. I knew you liked me and I led you on for the sake of whatever kind of political statement I just made out there.”

“You knew?” Frank accused him, growing angry.

“Not for very long but Mikey and I were talking and he said - he said he heard from someone else that someone in my band might have a thing for me and I just knew it was you.” He huffed.

“What? You were listening to gossip?” He spat back at Gerard.

The red on Gerard’s face was less from embarrassment and more from frustration, “No! What I’m trying to say is that Frank, I love you. I love you a lot, okay, like you don’t even understand how much I care for you. But you’re my best friend and that’s all I’ve ever seen you as. What I did? Playing with your feelings? Knowing you liked me and led you on? That shit? That was totally unfair of me and for that, I really am sorry. It wasn’t until we were halfway through all this political shit that I realized you liked me and it was too late.”

“But you kissed me.”

“I know.” Gerard groaned and collapsed on the leather couch, “I won’t ask for your forgiveness but I just need you to know that everything I say, I mean it.”

“I know you mean it.” Frank fidgeted with a loose string on his jeans, “That’s why it hurts.”

He put his head in his hands, “Fuck. I’m sorry, Frank. I really am.”

It was quiet in the room for a really long time before Frank gathered the courage to ask Gerard a question, “I know - I know you said you didn’t mean it. But could I - could I kiss you? Just one last time?”

“Frank, I don’t-”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything.” He interrupted him. 

Gerard looked up at him, “That wouldn’t be fair to you.”

What wasn’t fair was everything that Gerard was. He was slick with sweat, his hair ruffled and curling near his neck. His shirt was undone just enough for Frank to see his pale collarbones and his pants hugged his body well. He was everything Frank had ever wanted right in front of him and he couldn’t have it. He’d never _not_ gotten what he wanted before. He’d fought for everything he had. But he couldn’t fight for this. It didn’t work that way.

“I know,” Frank said. 

And he did know. He really did.


End file.
